


Tightrope

by sunflowersapphic



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Alcohol Mentions, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Post-Canon, it's happy don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5265617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowersapphic/pseuds/sunflowersapphic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His hands are cold—at least that’s what he’s telling you. As you’re walking down the streets of New York City, both bundled up to fit the winter weather, he tells you his hands are cold. You think that it would be nice to hold them, that maybe that would help, but you also think that he is your best friend and that holding hands with your best friend is a very, very bad idea."</p><p>A lot of things can change over the course of a year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tightrope

**Author's Note:**

> More sappy McPriceley fics with Walk The Moon inspired titles. Are you tired of me yet? Anyway, I'm finally getting around to writing more pieces from Connor's view--I'm surprised I've neglected it for this long considering he's the one I understand most.
> 
> Enjoy!

His hands are cold—at least that’s what he’s telling you. As you’re walking down the streets of New York City, both bundled up to fit the winter weather, he tells you his hands are cold. You think that it would be nice to hold them, that maybe that would help, but you also think that he is your best friend and that holding hands with your best friend is a very, very bad idea. It is also an idea you should not be considering, not when you are both boys.

So you take the safe route and tell him that he should have brought gloves with him. You laugh as you tease him, make a remark about his poor choices, and the walk continues on. The rest of the night you watch his hands turn pink and wonder why he keeps them at his side as opposed to shoving them in his pockets.

* * *

 

Spring comes and his hands are no longer cold but you still want to hold them. He is much happier when the weather is warmer, you notice, and the two of you spend more time together than you did during the winter. Your rehearsal schedule is less rigorous and he seems to have built his school schedule to have more free time so you end up spending long nights on your couch talking about nothing.

Every now and then you invest in a nice bottle of wine together and more times than you are willing to admit you almost tell him how you feel. It is hard not to when your mind is being tampered with by the alcohol. You feel especially warm on these nights and you have trouble figuring out whether it is because of the wine or because of his close proximity. He keeps getting closer and closer to you. Sometimes you think that if you get him to drink enough he just might close the distance between the two of you.

* * *

 

Funny enough, the first time you kiss Kevin Price you are both completely sober. It is a warm summer night and you are on the balcony of your apartment, looking out at the city. He is explaining to you some of the research he is doing and you know in that moment that you have never seen anything more beautiful in your life. So you lean in, take his face in your hands, and you kiss him. You kiss him and you scoot yourself closer to him and you don’t stop until you both decide that you should probably breathe at some point.

The eye contact you make with him after the fact seems to hold more meaning than any conversation the two of you have ever had. As he leans in and kisses you again you feel everything you’ve wanted to say but have not been able to—have not felt allowed to say—come out from where it’s been hiding. He wraps his arms around you and as you’re drawn closer you almost feel like crying. You are scared, you are excited, you are relieved, and you are probably in love.

You had always hoped that you might one day get to hold his hand, but somehow this seems like a better starting point.

* * *

 

The first time you are intimate together comes a month or two later. It is everything you could have hoped for and more.

When his hands touch you there are sparks going off at the point of contact. There are fireworks inside you, or fire, or something like magic, and that is the only way you can describe it. There is no coherent way to describe it. You are almost embarrassed at the sounds you are making, but with the way he is making you feel you cannot help but sing his praises. His name falls from your lips freely and when he buries his face in the crook of your neck you swear you can feel him muttering yours. The fact that what you are doing is a sin in the eyes of your family and your religion no longer matters. You were told there would be temptation, but you were never told that giving in would feel so blissful.

When you wake in the morning you feel his arms firmly around you, and you do not want to ever wake up another way.

* * *

 

Winter comes back around and his hands are no longer cold because not only has he finally remembered his gloves, but because of the way he keeps a firm grip on your own hand when you two are out.

It took months of working up to it, but you no longer feel a rush of anxiety when he kisses your cheek in public. When he tells you he loves you in the line for coffee you smile and tell him that _I love you too, Kevin_ , without the panic you formerly experienced. It is hard to unlearn a lifetime of lessons, but you are taking small steps towards what is surely going to be a better future. He was the one with cold hands, but he is the one bringing warmth to a part of you that was once cold and closed off. _It is okay now_ , he tells you, _you are okay_ , and you believe him. You believe him and you discover that life is so much more beautiful when you don’t have to pretend anymore.

It is winter in New York City, and you are in love with Kevin Price (and he is in love with you), and his hands are no longer cold.


End file.
